Not So SJ Anymore

Fun fact: I have a love of 90s music. I really do. Actually, it goes farther than that; I have very specific Pandora stations I have created over the past 8 or 9 years -- 90s pop, 50s rock, 90s country, 80s...you name it. I have Big Band Stations and Boogie Woogie Stations and Frank Sinatra (both holiday and not) stations to fit every mood I could possibly have. I'm listening to the song "It's All Been Done" by the Barenaked Ladies as I type this. (Second fun fact: If I hear too many of their songs, I have the sudden impulse to watch the American Pie movies.) I knew you before the fall of Rome...I knew you before the west was won... So true for my life today. I don't think most people know, as I typically don't share much of my life with, well, anyone, that I spend the majority of my time writing. I have written two full books since my kids started going to school (after homeschooling) 3 years ago. I actually wrote one book completely twice (and then c...

I was the queen of short shorts in high school. Honestly, I didn't understand the concept of dress code and short lengths (to your fingertips, ladies!) and how they applied to me. Here's the rule: Your shorts had to be longer than your fingertips, plain and simple. Every single time I wore shorts to school (and every single time I got in trouble for them), I'd exclaim that "I have long arms and short legs! They don't make shorts that long!" It is true; I do have long arms and short legs. It isn't true that they do not make shorts that long. I just didn't want to wear them. Therefore, most of the time I wore jeans to school, though I had plenty of opportunities of sitting in the principal's office or getting sent home for my wardrobe. Every single one of my friends was capable of complying with the code, but not me. I always laugh when I hear the Mase (90s) song where it says, "I'm the reason they made the dress code." I smile ...

Several years ago, I was in the teacher's break room at the School We No Longer Discuss. Several teachers were in there, having lunch. I overheard one teacher (a lady who I really didn't like socially, or even as a human being because she was a stuck up B who still wore embroidered sweaters and not even ironically) discussing how she couldn't wait until her kids would "leave the nest." Like...Ugh, I'm so sick of my kids, she said. I won't cry when they leave. (We're not even talking about adult children; these kids were still legally minors.) (Warning: This post goes nowhere. Even I know this.) I'm a bit burned out on life today. Not by my kids, but just everything. Even my therapist is annoying me right now.  Might I point out how ridiculously entitled it is to say those words about therapy? Yes, I know and it kills me but we're keeping it real, folks. Me: I don't want to spend $400 in gas a month to go across town to some activity...

When my kids were very little, I had a lot of trouble functioning throughout the day. I was very young myself and having eight or nine hours with two very small people tended to throw me for a loop. I did all sorts of crazy things to keep them entertained (Painting with pine cones! Sitting outside the library and reading ALL the books we picked out! Riding bike to the pool!) but, still...that's a lot of time to kill. My husband suggested we get a schedule. Have a set plan for every day. Of course, my being the idiot that I am, I took it extremely literally. (Why I have a penchant for to interpret things in a literal sense is lost on me.) From 9 to 9:30 we play puzzles! From 9:30 to 9:45 we color! Things like that. Except...at 9:15 we were done with puzzles and the colors were missing and OH MY GOD WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE HERE. Quick, hurry kids, someone snap a picture of Mom so that she looks good in the photo that will make the news. Oh wait, no, I am still wearing a pa...

One of my favorite things about spending my childhood in the 1980s was how DIFFERENT things were back then. We lived in a small town in far southeast Texas, just a stone's throw from Louisiana (via a lake). It was not a perfect town, by any means, but I do have many, ahem, interesting memories. One of my memories is of Halloween; I distinctly remember going to a haunted house put on by a local church.  I remember knowing, at the ripe old age of 8 or 9, that this haunted house was about "real things" that could scare you. Basically, I think it was one of those haunted houses meant to scare kids from abortions. I remember there being a lot of fake body parts and hospital patients and screaming. When you're 8, flying body parts are a very important part of the fear process. Just recently, an owl has taken residence in my back yard. We have a huge mesquite tree, probably one of the biggest in the neighborhood. It's the kind of tree that reminds me a little too...

I ran cross-country in high school. Honestly, it was one of the best things I ever did. It gave me a sense of determination I hadn't had before and taught me the value of hard work. Running two or three times a day? Sure! Nine miles before school? OK! In the summer, we often ran fun runs. I remember standing at one in Houston and Destiny's Child had just become A Thing. They were from Houston, a fact I found exciting because no one was ever from Houston, and I'd once read Beyonce's dad used to have them run and sing to practice performing. That was the teenage thinking in me: We're both from Houston and we've both run before! We're practically twinsies! We're currently waking up early, trying to will our bodies to want to go to sleep easier on the plane before our very own (not so) Royal Wedding. I typically wake at 5:30 in the school year, but in the summer I hover between 7:30-8:30 because, woah nelly, I like to Live A Little. Every morning I g...

Several years ago, when our children were firmly footed in childhood (not babyhood, toddler-hood or preschool-hood), I started receiving ads and coupons from Target. Ads for diapers. Bottles. Baby clothes. My husband looked at me, in my mid-30s and so done with baby things, and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something I need to know?" Like a teen caught with alcohol in her closet, I shook my head. "No! No! I have NO IDEA why they are sending me diaper ads!" Those aren't even mine! I'm just holding them for a friend! I'm sure I fit whatever box Target thought made a new mother: In my 30s, in the 'burbs, shops at Target. Needless to say, Target didn't realize I'm not typical: I started having babies much younger than most people and now, in my 30s, I have a teen and a tween, thankyouverymuch. I know that my purchases and everything else is tracked. It bothers the ever living hell out of me, but I know this. The people at Amazon could ...

I've always wondered how memories get etched into our minds. Out of all the things one experiences in life, what makes a certain instance stand out from the rest-- even if it is a mundane one? For me, memories are like snapshots. I actually think of them as Polaroids, for some reason-- white border and all, stored in my mind. One memory that is completely ridiculous that stands out involves Bob Saget (aka Danny Tanner from "Full House"). It was fifth grade and I was making a cake in our tiny apartment kitchen. We had on (an HBO, I think) comedy special featuring his not-family-friendly comedy. For some reason, a bit where he discussed riding the train at the Houston Zoo with his family stands out. Apparently, he could see the conductor's buttcrack. Saget kept repeating "crack in my butt" during his gig. That was all he could think during the train ride. Totally random, totally out of context, but this bit is etched into my subconscious in a way that ...

Once upon a time (okay, several times upon a time), we were invited to a wedding. I threw on my trusty dress I wore for anything that required even somewhat nice clothing and hopped in the car. I have no idea if I did my hair or makeup. I do remember, however, having to stop at the store on the way to the wedding so I could frantically shop for a pair of shoes to wear. This wasn't a last-minute gig; why did I wait so long? I don't know, but running up and down the aisles of Marshall's, looking for something that 1. I could afford 2. that matched and 3. fit really put a damper on the whole afternoon. Let's not forget the wedding we went to where I was newly postpartum with my second child. I wore a pair of ill-fitting pants and a sweater that did not do me any favors. Or the other wedding where I was still nursing but wore a dress that had to be zipped down to get to the goods. The last wedding I attended was 6 or 7 years ago (I believe). I wore a frumpy green dr...